Smoke Season at The Moroccan Lounge 10/3/17. Photo by LeRoy Pristach (@TheBeardedStranger) for www.BlurredCulture.com.

Los Angeles, CA- Gabrielle Wortmanis a goddess on fire. Her voice is every love you’ve ever had calling your name, beckoning you to come back in from the sea. Her moves are so fluid and so perfectly timed to the sounds hitting your ears that they seem premeditated. Is it a ritual? A rite to claim your soul, to honor the goddess herself? If you close your eyes and let yourself be overcome by her music, will you ever open them again? Or will you be pulled so far into the depths of her song that the only light you’ll ever behold are the bright colors of the stage lights? The only face you’ll ever see again would be hers. The only smile? Hers.

On the dance floor of the newly opened Moroccan Lounge, while meditating in a self-inflicted, whiskey infused shadow, I further imbibed on the electro-soul sounds of Smoke Season, as I pondered the foregoing questions whilst fighting through multiple instances of near entrancement. So engaged in the awe of what I was seeing and hearing, I momentarily forgot to pick up my camera to record any of it, and in the hours since, I’ve contemplated the answers and, I have to admit, I’m still unsure if I have an appropriate response.

It’s a near certainty- had the performance lasted much longer- I most certainly would have given myself fully. The songs being sung by this siren was a powerful force, and moved me to a state of blissful delirium. In the grand scheme of things, I suppose the only question that needs to be addressed is, “Would losing myself – my soul – to the fire burning before me be such a terrible thing?”